This chapter is dedicated to FelineNinjaGrace who just gave me several reviews of previous chapters, topping it off with a long and detailed response to my questions in the last chapter regarding where the story should go from here. You rock, but you will have to see if you are right or not.
31. Nothing Went as I Expected It to Go
I wished to ride straight away to Longbourn, to hopefully see that the Bennet women were safely still living there, but I knew it would not due to arrive to greet them with all the dust of the road, so I went to Netherfield instead. The house was closed up, but I had never given up the lease. Although my sisters had urged me to do so, I could not add that additional nail to the coffin, turn my back on the place so near to my love.
As I approached Netherfield, I saw no smoke rising from any of its chimneys, no sign of life there at all, but that was to be expected. The housekeeper and one or two others should still be seeing to its upkeep but they had no reason to live in the house itself. I hoped they might be present, but if no one was about, I still had the key.
I doubted there would be anyone to collect my horse or to tend to my stallion in the stables, so I rode for the stables first and put my mount in a stall, took his saddle and reins off, found a cloth to rub him down. Unfortunately there was no water to give him and no feed besides. He tried licking at the empty trough and I knew I must find someone to attend to him post haste.
Therefore, I trotted toward the house and made my way to the front. I banged upon the front door (there was no knocker present of course) and when after a minute or two none answered, unlocked the door with my key. It was dark in the front, so dark that either the adjoining doors were all closed or thick curtains covered every window.
To move on from the door, I was obliged to light a candle by the light cast by its opening, and blessed whatever maid had chosen fit to keep a candle in its stand on the side table near the door. I yelled again from inside once it was lit and the door shut, but there was no one. Every door I opened only revealed dark rooms with furniture draped in cloths. It was quiet but for the sound of my own footsteps, the inhale and exhale of each breath; I even fancied I could hear the beating of my own heart. I had never known my tread, my breath and my heart to be so loud before or since.
No one seemed to be in residence at all as I made myself walk through each main room on the main floor. My single candle lit a circle around me but left darkness behind as I left each room.
I startled in the parlor, nearly dropping my candlestick at the sight of my own reflection. My visage was grey in the dim light, my locks unruly, and I was unkempt; if I had not known it was me, I might have thought myself some ruffian for the fine cut of my clothes was disguised from being rumpled, with dust from the road besides.
Even the kitchen (into which I had never ventured before), was deserted, with not a morsel of food nor any bit of water to be had. Satisfied that I was well and truly alone, I resolved to depart for the Meryton Inn and find my staff later. I knew after having seen the current state of things that it might be several days until Netherfield might be habitable for occupation again as many were needed for me to have meals, laundry, baths and my horse to be tended to properly.
I was pleased to have come to a quick resolution as to what to do, but departing for the inn was sooner said than done as while it was not too difficult a task to find the front door once more, and to walk back to the stable, I realized I did not know quite how to re-saddle my horse, having never needed to saddle one before. I felt quite the buffoon you may be sure as I struggled to reassemble what I had so blithely cast off for my stallion's comfort and he was scarcely less distressed than me when I got his bridle put on upside-down and tried to put his saddle on without the protective cloth. He snorted and pawed at the ground, while I tried to determine what was wrong.
I was able to reason it all out, to get everything assembled to look right, but halfway back to Meryton had to deal with the indignity of siding off his back when the saddle rolled to the side. I only hurt my pride and dirtied my clothes further. Still, I felt quite blessed that none were nearby to spot me during such indignity.
I righted and tightened the girth, pleased that the saddlebags had not spilled their contents, which were a change of clothing. I was glad to be able to mount my horse again and successfully reach the inn.
I was sore and not in the best of spirits when I left my horse with a boy at the front of the inn and inquired as to lodging. I had been certain of receiving a room and then getting to bathe. I was anxious to get on with these things so I could ready myself to seek out Miss Bennet. I did not recognize the man at the counter, but that was to be expected as I had not visited the inn before. The innkeeper had a face that was rather round for being a short, skinny fellow.
I stated "Good day to you. I need a room, the best one you have, and a stall for my horse."
The innkeeper shook his head, and declared apologetically, "I am sorry, sir, but we have no rooms to let today. For you see, almost half of our rooms are occupied by a family awaiting more permanent lodging, and the other half taken out by fellow travelers like yourself. But we can take and tend to your horse, and you are welcome to take a meal in the common room and then look for other arrangements."
"Is there another inn nearby?"
He shook his head again, "Not in Meryton, but you might go on another four miles to XXXX, which is where the coaching inn lets off those who take the mail carriage."
My face must have fallen at that news, for then he added, "Miss Watson's has been known to lodge patrons and to entertain them besides. Or perhaps you have some friend in Meryton who might be able to host you?"
The first suggestion I rejected immediately. I was familiar with Miss Watson's only by reputation, had heard of it often enough for the officers were frequent patrons there. The madam was Miss Watson and she had several young women in her employ. It would not due to be hosted by a nunnery when I was hoping to court Miss Bennet; it would be most unseemly.
As for friends, I could think of but one likely option, Sir William Lucas, for he was the only one whose acquaintance I had maintained all this time. While I did not doubt I would be welcome in his home, he might think by my taking such a step that I was accepting his suggestion of considering Miss Maria Lucas as a potential bride. No, I did not dare beg for lodging there.
I was left at an impasse once again, but then another thought occurred to me. Perhaps even now Colonel Fitzwilliam was in Meryton courting another Bennet sister, and where else would he stay but this self-same inn? If he was but there, he should be more than willing to share his room with me. He did owe me, after all. So I asked, "Is Colonel Fitzwilliam staying here?"
The innkeeper screwed up his forehead in confusion. "There is no one here by that name. Is he an officer with the militia? They have been gone for nearly a year."
"No matter," said I, trying to put a brave face upon it, even though I had no idea what I should now do.
Just then I heard some tittering behind me and some rather loud whispering, too, between two young ladies. "That looks like Mr. Bingley."
"I wonder if he knows; what a good joke it would be if he does not."
"Could he be here for Jane?"
At the mention of my beloved's name, I half turned and spotted the youngest of the Miss Bennets. They were both wearing the colors of half-mourning. Miss Catherine in grey and Miss Lydia in lavender; both dresses appeared new. Miss Catherine looked embarrassed, while Miss Lydia looked gleeful. "Mr. Bingley!" Miss Lydia exclaimed. "Are you staying here, too?"
Miss Lydia sidled up to me and thrust her chest up. Her dress was rather low in the front and appeared to be intended to be gathered up into some semblance of modesty with a securing ribbon at the top, but the ribbon was untied. Her bosom was rather larger than I recalled from before and it was with some difficulty that I forced myself to focus on her face as she was wiggling her chest toward me.
"Miss Lydia, Miss Catherine," I acknowledged both of them with a nod of my head. "Unfortunately not. The inn is full."
"Oh, then you must take some tea with us." Miss Lydia hooked her hand around my arm. "We are so bored." She shook her chest from side to side in a gesture something like to someone swinging a bell to make it ring.
While I was certainly anxious for any intelligence on their sister Jane, I was certainly not going to take tea with two young and unchaperoned women. I directed my next question at Miss Catherine. "I was sad to hear about your father. I should like to pay my respect and offer my condolences to your mother and your sisters."
Miss Catherine straightened a little and drew nearer. "Thank you, Mr. Bingley. Mamma should be down soon."
As if mention of her conjured her, I spotted Mrs. Bennet upon the top of the stairs. She must have seen me as well, for her countenance brightened and she scurried down the stairs as swift and fleet of foot as me and my sisters used to be when we were children. Mrs. Bennet who was dressed in all black, began exclaiming loudly while she was only half-way down the stairs, "Oh Mr. Bingley, how delightful to see you! Go Kitty, go and fetch Jane."
"But . . . "
"Hurry, hurry. You may come back, Mary will not mind taking another turn at it."
By then Mrs. Bennet was at my elbow and seemed to notice Miss Lydia's grip on my arm and perhaps also the state of her neckline. "Now Lydia, you had better go up as well. I rather think it is time." She nodded once.
Miss Lydia released my arm while scowling. "Little George does not need me yet. I want my share of amusements, too."
"You have your duties now, but later we shall all go see Aunt Phillips."
"I am so tired of only going to see Aunt Phillips," Miss Lydia declared petulantly.
"Now Lydia," her mother pointed up the stairs.
Miss Lydia stamped her foot but did as her mother directed. Her mother watched until she was most of the way up the stairs and then redirected her attention toward me. "Oh, Mr. Bingley, how we have all missed you. Have you opened up Netherfield again?"
"It is my intention to do so, but no one was present there just now," I explained.
"Oh, yes, I heard from Mrs. Phillips only yesterday that Mrs. Nichols's mother has been ill and she went to visit her in Shropshire, but I can recommend a suitable replacement for her, to be sure. Unfortunately, our own Mrs. Hill is in the Collinses' employ now, but Mrs. Phillips and I should be glad to assist you."
As her words tumbled out, Mrs. Bennet led me over to the common room which was almost empty. She sat down at a large table in the corner and bid me sit as well with a gesture of her hand while she continued to talk.
Mrs. Bennet went on to speak of various potential servants I could employ, but I did not attend to her conversation for more than a few minutes, because I was mightily distracted when I saw Miss Bennet floating toward me. Her color was high in her cheeks and she was as beautiful as I remembered. She was still wearing a black dress of mourning like her mother, and the contrast against her skin only emphasized its most desirable pale hue, but she was painfully thin, her dress hanging on her, and I wondered if she had been ill. Miss Catherine accompanied her eldest sister, but I barely noticed her.
I rose to my feet and walked over to her. "Miss Bennet, it is so lovely to see you. I was most pained to hear of your poor father and your family's recent difficulties. Please accept my condolences and if you should need any assistance at all, I would be most happy to see to it."
"Thank you Mr. Bingley," she responded and then said nothing else.
"Sit, sit, Jane," her mother directed. "Sit right here, next to Mr. Bingley."
Miss Bennet complied. The flush had not left her face. I could not decide if she was pleased to see me, embarrassed or diffident. If her mother and sister had not been in attendance, given the misery of not knowing, I think I should have thrown myself at her feet, made my declaration and awaited her reply, but as it was, the two of us sat in silence while her mother carried on an entire conversation by herself. I tried to force myself to listen, but most of the time it was as if she were talking to me from under water, for my focus was on Miss Bennet, whose face I studied and learned again.
Miss Bennet's face was thin, her blue eyes were prominent, and her blonde hair was pulled back into a too severe by half bun, with small wisps of escaped hair the only softening of that hairstyle. Color lingered upon her cheeks.
Mrs. Bennet rattled on and on, praising Miss Bennet, telling of their troubles. I did hear about them having to leave Longbourn and her delight that they had emptied the house, leaving the Collinses with "not a good stick of furniture in the whole place."
I vaguely heard the word "married," but not any of the particulars, and my heart was struck with fear. I knew it was irrational, but my eyes immediately tried to examine Miss Bennet's left hand, but it was on her lap, concealed by the table cloth.
"Married?" I asked. Nominally the question was in response to Mrs. Bennet, but it was Miss Bennet who I looked at as I asked, and it was she that replied.
"Did you not hear of it from Mr. Darcy?" Miss Bennet asked.
"What has Mr. Darcy to do with it?" I asked, confused.
"Why, that is who she married." She replied.
"Who?"
"Elizabeth."
At this point, I was mightily confused.
Miss Catherine chimed in. "On Wednesday, Elizabeth married Mr. Darcy. We were all very surprised."
"Yes," added Mrs. Bennet. "She was a sly thing and he was, too. I had not a notion of how it would be until he turned up and two days later they were married and left straight away for London. I should have liked to do it properly, to have gowns made up for her, host a grand celebration the best that Hertfordshire has ever seen, but we had not a place to hold it, for the Collinses were coming to take Longbourn. If only you had been here, we could have had the whole thing at Netherfield. You could have hosted a ball for them even so, for surely you would have done so much for your dear friend Mr. Darcy."
"Yes, quite." I replied absently. But in truth I was quite confused, for the last I had heard, Colonel Fitzwilliam had wanted to marry Miss Elizabeth, and it had been since before leaving Netherfield that Darcy had ever brought up the subject of Miss Elizabeth. I could not imagine his pride allowing him to court and marry her, even if I had suspected he had a tendre for her. While I had not noticed it at the time, Caroline had bemoaned him choosing to dance with Miss Elizabeth, had criticized Miss Elizabeth with a ferociousness that could only be borne of jealousy.
I did not understand how Darcy could have chosen to marry Miss Elizabeth, given the Bennets' downfall, when he had his young sister's reputation to think about, given how I had agonized over what acting to further my own happiness might to do Caroline. It was not a measured, reasoned choice. I could only conclude that beneath his solemn visage there beat a heart of passion I had never supposed him to possess. Only love, deep, deep love, could have caused him to act this way.
